


won't forget, can't regret (what i did for love)

by coffee_music_books



Series: thank you for the music [1]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, SO BE AWARE OF THIS, THERE ARE MAJOR SPOILERS, but it's good so, go watch the rest of season 1 and then give this a read, if you're reading but don't know how season 1 ends this will ruin it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10679058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee_music_books/pseuds/coffee_music_books
Summary: Your voice is positive, falsely sweet. Doc and Dolls had handed you a uniform, protocol-abiding, and looked at you seriously, as though they weren't sure they'd ever see you again. This is definitely not how you thought tonight would go.ORNicole is in love, and there's nothing she wouldn't do for Waverly. Nothing.





	won't forget, can't regret (what i did for love)

**Author's Note:**

> fic inspired by the song What I Did for Love from A Chorus Line (but performed by Lea Michele because that voice is so perfect and flawless it makes my ears happy af). the title is also a line from the song

 

"Hey I knew I recognized that ringtone." Your voice is positive, falsely sweet. Doc and Dolls had handed you a uniform, protocol-abiding, and looked at you seriously, as though they weren't sure they'd ever see you again. This is definitely not how you thought tonight would go.

 

Waverly, walking down those stairs and smiling wide and bright at free. Looking for you, finding you instantly, and staring as though you're the only person in the room. Her skin shimmers under the chandelier's lights, her eyes glittering and face unobscured by all of that hair. She looks positively angelic. And she's looking at you as if she thinks the same. You rarely wear your hair without the braid, but you know Waverly loves when it's down and flowing. She runs her fingers through it a lot when you're alone with her.

 

Willa at the top of the stairs makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You don't like her, you never have. Something about her seems  _off_ somehow, like she can't be trusted. Plus, she's kind of a bitch.

 

Champ's little display barely phases you. Decking him in the face is satisfying in ways that you aren't shocked about, but surprises you in their persistence. You've been dating Waverly for a while now; she and Champ ended well before then, too. But you still don't like that guy.

 

And the way Waverly looked at you didn't hurt.

 

You've never liked fighting. It wasn't an aspect of the job you were too keen on, and though you have the stomach for it, shooting someone has always frightened you. But the way Champ starts charging at Waverly makes you forget your aversion to violence. You'd drop him and everyone else in this room to the ground if they threatened Waverly like that. Even Wynonna, you think (you're not totally sure). 

 

The way Willa holds the gun at you is scary, but not nearly as scary as when she was holding it at Waverly. She's still in that dress, that beautiful dress. She still looks so flawless. 

 

You love her, you realize in perfect clarity. You'd take a thousand bullets for her.

 

Willa threatens your life, but all you hear is Waverly bargaining, pleading, begging. You worry that Willa is going to suddenly turn the gun on her, and you freeze, saying her name low. You want her to know you're okay, you'll be fine, let Willa do her worst. _To you_. _D_ _o anything you want to me, but for the love of God, don't_.  _touch_.  _her._  She's gasping and whispering, eyes darting between her sisters. And Wynonna hands over a purse, murmuring threats low in her throat, body still and coiled. And Willa pulls the trigger.

 

Your instincts are so focused on Waverly that, as you're flying backwards from the impact, you think it's  _her_ who's been shot, and you panic. But when she's cradling your face, gazing at you with fear and concern and  _love_ , you actually feel relieved. Then, you feel pain.

 

"There's no blood." The threat in Wynonna's voice makes you anxious, coiled and ready to fight again, but you realize that she's aiming it at you when she tears open your shirt.

 

Waverly sees the bulletproof vest and sobs, gasping joyously, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she runs her fingers through your hair. You don't regret leaving the braid out at all. She even manages to laugh when you crack a joke. 

 

When she kisses you, you decide you'd take a million bullets for her. And though it pains you, you tell her what you know, and then you tell her to go.

 

And she does.

 

/ / /

 

 

You have a bruised sternum, one fractured rib, and a concussion that keeps you here over night. "It could have been much worse, officer," the doctor tells you. His voice is patronizing, but his smile is kind. You're only slightly annoyed. "Where you were hit by the bullet--if the vest hadn't been there, well, this would be an entirely different kind of examination." You nod but stay silent, hoping it'll prompt him to leave.

 

When he does, you're alone in a white room. You don't want to watch TV, and you can't reach your phone to make sure Waverly is alright, that she's safe, that the right sisters won. You hear a knock on the door, and then she walks in.

 

She's wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and her usual cropped sleep shirt. There's a zip-up draped over her, and it looks huge on her. You hope it's Wynonna's or even Dolls'. Anyone's but Champ's. 

 

"Hi," she says, voice quiet and tentative. You smile at her, and she slips into the room and closes the door softly behind her. All of her movements are tight and careful, and she's fiddling with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. 

 

"You'll stretch it out if you keep doing that," you say, if only to give her something to ground herself. She looks petrified of you, as if any movement she could make will hurt you. 

 

"Oh, yeah. Well." She swallows thickly. "Curtis used to roll the sleeves up, so they're already pretty stretched out."  _Curtis's_ sweatshirt.  _Of course_.

 

"Waverly," you say, hoping it'll calm her down. You're voice is carefully calm, low and soothing. She exhales, and you watch her shoulders lower slightly. "I'm okay. Come sit with me." She freezes, looking from your face to the bed and back again. "It'll make me feel better." She doesn't hesitate after that.

 

She sits down next to you as close to the edge of the bed as possible. You reach out and rest your hand as close to her leg as you can reach without wincing and aggravating your bruised body. Your fingertips just graze the edge of her thigh, and she startles at the feeling. "Wave," you say, looking at her in the eyes. "I'm okay, baby."

 

Her face crumples, tears filling her eyes. She sobs, collapsing towards your outstretched hand and clutching it, holding your palm against her cheek as though it's sacred. You keep repeating it,  _I'm okay, baby, I'm okay_ , until her breathing starts to slow. "You got shot." She's mumbling, and you barely hear it. Her voice is scratchy and tired, and she looks so fragile and small. You rub your thumb against her skin.

 

"I was prepared," you remind her. "And I'm fine." She sighs. "And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

 

Waverly sits up, rubbing at her cheeks furiously and shaking her head. "Absolutely not." She's stubborn and firm, and there's fear flashing in her eyes as she looks at you.

 

You smile, nodding slowly. "I don't regret it for a second." You take a deep breath. "There's very little I wouldn't do for love, Waverly."

 

It's not an admission, not in so many words, but she understands. It's a big word. And she looks at you reverently, like you're a gift. You smile and you melt. "I love you." She whispers it, and you take a breath to respond, but she clears her throat. "If you ever get shot again, I'll kill you."

 

You smile and laugh, opening your arms so she'll settle in next to you. When she does, you kiss her once on the forehead, long and soft and meaningful, and you whisper I love you's into her skin.

 

 

 


End file.
